


The Tale of the Herald

by malignantillustrator (Vaud)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Humor, Inquisitor Carver Hawke, Mild Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4203630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaud/pseuds/malignantillustrator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the real, actual, and not-at-all-doctored-by-a-beardless-dwarf story of the Herald of Andraste, the Inquisitor of the Inquisition, basically the Champion of Thedas (fuck you, Garrett), Carver Hawke.</p><p>How Carver Hawke became the Inquisitor: as told by Carver Hawke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Let's pretend, for a moment, that you've never heard of my brother. Pretend you've never bloody read _that book_ , that you don't have any idea who I am. 

Is that too hard for you? Yeah, I suppose the same goes for every single acquaintance I've made in the last few years. Whatever. 

My name is Carver Hawke, and this is my story. 

I could start with my childhood, but I'm not going to. It's really none of your business. I could start with the Blight, the Battle of Ostagar, with my arrival at Kirkwall, but I won't. You know those stories. Everyone knows them. 

Everyone knows how I joined the Templar Order in Kirkwall. They know the part I played in my brother's story. But this isn't about that. This is  **my**  story, and it begins in the wake of Kirkwall's fall. Three years after the Kirkwall Rebellion, to be exact.

\--

"You wanted to see me, Knight Captain?" 

It was bloody sweltering in the Knight Captain's office. It always was. A man in full Templar armor, with the surcoat and cloak and everything else, was a man in a personal oven, especially in the Free Marches heat. Cullen never seemed to notice it, despite being Fereldan, as I was. Maker,  **am** . The shouts of drilling recruits in the courtyard rolled in through the open window, but the sticky air didn't seem to move. 

The Knight Captain set aside a parchment and looked at me, then frowned, lifting a hand to rub forefinger and thumb into his eyes. "You look as if you want to argue. Maker, why do you always look as if you want to argue?" He peered at me again, planting an elbow on his desk.

 I could feel sweat rolling down the sides of my face, felt like my body was literally melting away, and his comment irritated me, but I tried to appear deferential. Judging by his face, it wasn't that great of an attempt. "No, Ser," I told him, still at attention. I like Cullen well enough. He's a good man, probably the only officer in the Kirkwall Templars who didn't have shit for brains. That's the main reason I stuck around.

"Right, well, at ease, Carver. I have a... well a proposition of sorts." 

As I assumed a more relaxed posture, I quirked a brow at him. "Ser?"

"You've been briefed on the situation in Val Royeaux, the breaking of the Nevarran Accord. The effects have been devastating, even here, our numbers are dwindling."

I nodded at him, in acknowledgement. He knew well enough that I knew. He'd been the one to brief us about it, after all.  

"I've been offered a command position," Cullen continued, "away from Kirkwall, one that I have accepted. I thought to bring my best and most loyal men with me, if they saw fit to make the change. You should know that this organization is not of the Templar Order, yet not entirely dissimilar in creed. These forces are tied directly to the Chantry- to the Divine herself. As I said, I have already accepted. So now I ask you, Carver: will you join with me?"

The decision was not a terribly difficult one. The Templar Order, as we knew it, had thrown off Chantry ties and abandoned their sacred duties. Though, in truth, there were no longer Circles to protect. Kirkwall was stable now, slowly rebuilding, but my family and friends - what was left of them - were scattered to the winds. If the Divine had need of us, and if Knight Captain Cullen Rutherford was answering the call, that was good enough for me. "Yes, Ser," I answered him with all the conviction I had.

He smiled at me- an expression I did not often see on the Knight Captain's face, and nodded. "Gather your things, and say your farewells to Kirkwall, Carver Hawke. We're leaving for Ferelden in three days."

 


	2. Chapter 2

I'd only ever been on one other ship before, so I can't say as I've got a lot of knowledge or experience there. But this ship was larger by far than the one my family and I took to Kirkwall, all those years ago. Larger and cleaner. The men were quartered in a large bunkroom on the second level down. Cullen had his own room, as did the officials who had apparently recruited him. I caught only glimpses of the pair of women while we boarded. After stowing my possessions in my bunk, I came back up topside to find us already underway.

Watching the receding landmass until I could no longer tell the Gallows from the Cliffs, and not even the Twins were visible anymore, I at last had a look at the deck around me. It seemed I wasn't the only one watching Kirkwall slip away. The remnants of Kirkwall's Templar Order - those loyal to Cullen and the Chantry - agreed to come to a man. Even those few who were married joined us, and they brought their families along as well. Most of these men were native to the City of Chains, the rest Free Marchers, but for myself and two other former Ferelden refugees. Those men who were leaving their homeland for the first time might have had my sympathy, if I wasn't so bloody aware of how superior Ferelden is to Kirkwall, in every conceivable way. They'd see.

A last look at the dark smudge on the horizon that was Kirkwall, I considered these three days past. Laying to rest my Templar armor, along with all the uniform trappings. That wasn't who I was anymore. Oh sure, I still had the training, the skills, and the sense of duty, and I supposed I would try to hold to my vows, such as they were. But what was I now? I had supposed that we would all of us learn soon enough. I trusted Cullen and his judgement, my own skill at soldiering, and the Divine.

After packing, I'd visited Aveline. She tried that blustery, overprotective mothering crap the moment she learned I was leaving, but we've known each other far too long. I could see right through it. "Who will keep you out of trouble **now** , Carver Hawke?" She scolded me as though I wasn't a perfectly capable, fully grown man. But I knew how she'd meant it. And if I hadn't, then her fierce hug certainly would have spelled it out. "You behave yourself, now, or I'll march right across the sea and give you what for, and don't you dare think that I won't!" She threatened, and then she cried. Maker!

Next, I went to Gamlen's place. Odd that when I told him I was leaving, it seemed both of us cared far more than either of us wanted to admit. He gripped my hand in a hard shake, his dark eyes getting glossy with old man tears. "Don't get yourself dead, my boy," he croaked, then pulled me into a hug, slapping my back harder than any geezer had a right to. His stupid stuffy house was full of dust and had my eyes to watering something fierce, so after promising him I'd write, I left.

Varric, for a wonder, wasn't in the Hanged Man. No one there had seen him for days. I'll admit, I was disappointed to have missed him. He was one of the few people I'd actually wanted to see before I left.

I went down to the Alienage, to see Merrill. To be perfectly honest, I hadn't been visiting her as often as I should have. Not nearly so often as I'd like. But being a Templar, I decided it was probably best if I gave her space, all things considered. But I wasn't a Templar anymore, was I? I'd saved her for last for a reason. I arrived at her house, and an unfamiliar elf answered the door. This wasn't out of the ordinary; Merrill spent most of her time helping the elves of the Alienage now, and she took in stragglers all the time.

"I'm here to see Merrill," I told him, and he hesitated long enough that I thought he was going deny me entry. But then he turned away, leaving the door open for me to step inside. As expected, Merrill's little house was full of elves, which was disappointing. I'd had plans, but we'll get to that in a moment. I spied her on the far side of the room, wove a path through her guests.

She glanced up, her eyes, like huge emeralds in her delicate face, flashed with recognition, and she lifted a hand in a wave. Maker, she was beautiful. As I drew closer, she spoke to me in that lovely Dalish lilt. "Oh, Carver, it's nice of you to drop by!"

"Could we speak for a moment, Merrill?" I asked, glancing toward the little house's single bedroom.

"We are speaking, Carver," she pointed out, and when she smiled, my heart skipped a beat.

"Privately, if you don't mind?" I gestured to her room, and watched as a little line formed between her brows.

"Well, I don't know as it will be very private in there, but, ma nuvenin." She led the way, opening and letting us into her bedroom.

As I should have guessed, the room held a trio of elves. I tried not to glare openly at them. "Would you excuse us for a moment?" I asked of them.

"No, no, it's alright," Merrill told them. "You don't need to go. Now what is this about, Carver?"

I stared at the strangers in our midst, willing them to get up and leave the room.

"Maybe we should go," one of them said, rising.

"Yes," I answered.

"No!" Merrill exclaimed, turning a stare on me. "You cannot just make them leave! That's very rude, Carver! What did you want?"

Every elf in the room was staring at me now. I could feel my face heating. "I'm... leaving, Merrill."

She frowned at me, tsking. "You just got here. If you have something to say, say it."

"I'm leaving **Kirkwall**. Going back to Ferelden. And I don't know when I'll be back."

"You're being awfully dramatic about this," she chided.

"I'm being serious," I insisted, feeling defensive. "I'm moving to Ferelden, and you may not see me for a long, long time. I just wanted to tell you a few things before I go." I focused on her face, though I could hear the others shifting, perhaps finally realizing that I wanted some bloody privacy.

Merrill gave a half shake of her head, and folded her arms, brow furrowed. "You're really leaving."

"I am," I confirmed, and reached out, hands closing over her shoulders. "Merrill, I just wanted," my mouth had gone dry, "I needed to tell you that-"

"Well then," she interrupted, pulling away and stepping back out of my reach. "Dareth shiral, Carver."

I'd left then, which was bloody stupid of me. I should have **told** her, should have made her listen. But I didn't.

Not sure how long I stood on that deck, leaning on the railing and staring at the waves, but you better believe a man can never really brood in peace.

"Why the long face, Junior? I thought for sure you'd be happy to leave Kirkwall behind."

Pulled from those grey thoughts by none other than Varric Tethras. I turned, and all but scooped him up in a hug, which I quickly curtailed before drawing too much attention from those still on the deck. "Varric?! What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you, kid. Except I think I know well enough. Followed Curly to the Inquisition, eh? Well, there are worse places to end up." He offered me a smile, jerked a thumb toward the bow of the ship, and said, "Why don't we take a walk over here and I'll tell you a story."


End file.
